


I Won't Tell Anybody

by daybyrandomday



Category: Sherlock (TV), The Avengers (2012), The Avengers - All Fandoms
Genre: AvengeLock, M/M, Starklock
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-09-05
Updated: 2013-11-15
Packaged: 2017-11-13 15:17:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/504881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daybyrandomday/pseuds/daybyrandomday
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Steve Rogers goes missing there’s only one detective in the world who has the skill and intelligence to find him, let alone deal with one Tony Stark. A Marvel/BBC Sherlock AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Tony sat, brooding, in his chair as Fury discussed plans for finding those responsible for kidnapping Captain America, aka Steve Rogers, aka Tony's fault because he had been the last one to see Steve. Throwing Steve's caution to the wind, Tony had taken him to meet the anonymous culprit who had been emailing Steve the past month with claims of being related to Steve's long-dead Peggy.

The mysterious contact had gone by Melody and claimed she had something to give to Steve that Peggy had meant to give him before she died. It had seemed innocent enough; she was just a young girl trying to finish her great aunt's wishes.

Tony wishes they had brought somebody else along: Clint who could have watched from afar, or Natasha who would have been hidden in the shadows. Why was it that Steve had come to him and him only? It was almost accidental, Tony finding out. He had stumbled across Steve in the early morning, after a long night in the workshop, fumbling with the large television screen in the rec room.

“Whatchya doin, Rogers?” Tony had asked from the doorway.

Steve had glanced at him and then back to the screen which was flashing an error message, and then, with a slight embarrassed tint to his cheeks, held out the remote for Tony to take. Tony only smirked at him, but efficiently got Steve to his email when he explained what he wanted.

“Okay and if you need to click on something move the mouse around with this,” Tony said pointing at the small pad in the middle of the remote, Steve glanced at him and then back at the remote, then at him again and Tony could see an internal struggle going on behind his icy, blue eyes. Finally, as Tony began to turn away Steve had grabbed his wrist.

“If you promise not to tell anyone else...” And from there Steve had shown Tony the first few emails, asking Tony for his opinion, and of course Tony, stupid Tony, had let it pass as something good. He had hookups all the time through the internet, and he had thought if Steve didn't get closure out of this, he might just get laid by some eccentric fan. But he had been so wrong.

Of course the day had come when Steve agreed to meet the girl and didn't hesitate to bring Tony along. Tony didn't think much of it, maybe the girl would have a sister, and the meeting place had been safe enough, a viewpoint on the harbor where tourists frequently visited to get a good look at the Statue of Liberty.

Looking back, Tony wants to slap himself, even though Pepper had already kindly obliged him by doing so. Steve had told him to bring the case suit, just in case, but Tony had waved it off, insisting that they would be fine, it was their day off, and that it was too heavy to carry. Stupid. Stupid, lazy, asshole, that's what he was.

It had almost come as a surprise to Tony, usually he was the one kidnapped, people always intent on getting the arc reactor from his chest, but when he had woken up in the hospital, a lump the size of his fist on the back of his head and no Steve anywhere to be seen, well, Tony had almost lost it. He remembered quickly what had happened. They had shown up at the spot, people were few and far between, but that wasn't too unusual on a Tuesday morning. A young girl in a hooded jacket had walked up, her face hidden by the shadow of the hood, and Steve had tensed. Tony moved to step in between them, just in case. In case of what, he had thought to himself. What form of protection could his small body offer to protect someone the size of Captain America? He had never answered that because within moments a searing pain ripped through his mind from behind his right ear, and then it had all gone white, then black, and the last thing he had heard was Steve shouting his name.

And now it was all on him. The other team members looked at him with disdain as Fury announced the failure of the last S.H.I.E.L.D. detective’s attempt to locate Steve. Only Bruce looked at Tony with pity, knowing that sometimes things just weren't in your hands. Of course he would know that. Fury continued to babble on the statistics of Steve's survival after his missing status of two weeks. Tony finally had enough.

“Fuck you.” He said and Fury stopped his rant to glare at Tony with one sharp eye.

“What?”

“You heard what I said,” Tony growled, “Fuck you and S.H.I.E.L.D. And your stupid, incompetent agents. If you can't fix this I fucking will. Cause it's my fault, isn't it? It's always Tony Stark's fault. Well, I'll take care of it, like I always do.” Tony stood up abruptly and ran from the meeting room. The case he had been carrying dropped open and he was quickly enveloped in his suit, not giving a glance back as he busted through a window. Who cared if he destroyed S.H.I.E.L.D. Property, not like he couldn't pay for what he broke. And it's not like he couldn't pay for someone better than the pitiful agents S.H.I.E.L.D. had to find Steve.

Tony arrived at Stark Tower in record time and already had JARVIS pulling up the world's best detectives or any mention of extreme skill in the occupation before the mask was even pulled off his face. JARVIS already had a list of twenty names by the time Tony reached around for his closest tablet, his eyes narrowing as he glanced at the names. One in particular stood out.

“Sherlock Holmes-Science of Deduction” was the blog that appeared. Nobody really called themselves that, did they? Tony clicked on the website to find that the man mentioned lived in London, apparently the world's only consulting detective. Tony was about to blow him off but ran one more Google search of the detective. Telling JARVIS to ignore the references of several of Doyle's books that popped up, Tony narrowed down the search to find that not only was the man the Scotland Yard's right hand, but had been hired for--and solved within a few days--huge cases in many countries, from India to China to Australia.

Tony returned to the detective’s page and read through the posts and comments. As far as Tony could see, the man was cold and arrogant, turning down many cases submitted to him for cases with more depth, or outright ludicrousness. He was rude and brazen, and he was just Tony Stark's kind of man. If Sherlock Holmes didn't find this case interesting enough, Tony was sure a couple million dollars would make things worth looking into.

“JARVIS, call up Mr. Holmes right now,” Tony demanded.

“He is on the line, sir” JARVIS replied as the sound of ringing echoed through Tony's empty floor.

* * *

 

“John.”

“John.”

“Jooooooohn,” Sherlock said yet again. He saw John's shoulders hunch up and then relax as he turned to face Sherlock.

“Yes?”

“Bored.” Sherlock replied, lifting himself from the couch and pacing the length of the sitting room.

“You're always bored, Sherlock,” John replied, turning towards his computer again with the intent of finishing his blog post of their latest case, concerning a stolen chihuahua and a dead reporter.

“You know what we should do, John? We should travel. I've been dying to get out of London, the heavy air and Mycroft's nuisance has become too much for me of late.” Sherlock said suddenly, leaning over John and brushing his hands out of the way as Sherlock opened a new tab and typed in “vacation spots”. John huffed and sat back as Sherlock commandeered his laptop. He couldn't help but agree though, he'd been itching to get away from London as soon as the army had left him here with a bum leg and no money.

Sherlock was about to click on a link for Mexico, god help them, John thought, before a sudden ringing from Sherlock's pocket interrupted him. Sherlock stopped, withdrew himself from over John's shoulders and walked to the other side side of the room, answering the phone as he did so.

“Sherlock Holmes,” He answered curtly. It was from a number he didn't recognize other than the knowledge that its area code placed it in New York, New York.

“So you really do call yourself that?” He heard a male's voice answer from the other end.

“Yes,” Sherlock answered sharply, “Is there something I can assist you with Mr....?”

“ Stark. Tony Stark. I have a case for you, Mr. Holmes.”

Stark, Sherlock ran that through his memory. An American billionaire, playboy, and philanthropist, considered in certain circles a genius, in others a waste of talent. Last Sherlock had read of the man he had designed a metal suit of armor whose weapon capabilities had the American government in an uproar.

“A case, Mr. Stark?” Sherlock replied. “Consisting of what?”

“My friend, Steve Rogers has gone missing and the dumbasses here in America don't seem capable enough to track him down, so I was hoping someone as good as yourself would grace me with your skills and help me find him.”

Flattery. If Sherlock didn't know any better he would say Mr. Stark was flirting with him despite the stressful and despairing reason for his phone call. Interesting.

“Please, explain further Mr. Stark.”

Tony Stark did so as he recounted Mr. Rogers’s and his meeting with the hooded girl and the emails that preceded the meeting. There really wasn't much to work with and nothing of particular interest to hold Sherlock, and he told Stark this. He received a snort in return.

“I thought you would say so, thats why I'm offering two million dollars and an all-expenses-paid trip from England to America, if you do decide to take this up.”

Two million dollars, that was a lot of money. “I can't be bought with money, Mr. Stark,” Sherlock replied instead. Instead of a snort Sherlock was met with silence for a moment, then, “That's fine Mr. Holmes, I can find someone better.”

He was being baited, Sherlock grinned, this American was clever, he could give him that.

“Give me a moment to speak to my colleague and I will return your call with my answer,” Sherlock said, and he could almost hear the grin in Stark's reply as he agreed and hung up.

Sherlock turned to meet John's curious gaze and gave him a quick synopsis of the American and his requests.

“Two million? Sherlock, thats a hell of a lot of money, if you don't say yes...” John trailed off and serious edge lacing his words.

“What if it's boring John, what would be the point in that?” Sherlock replied.

“Boring?” Sherlock, we would be going to America, expense free mind you, nothing there is boring even if the case is, and didn't you want a vacation, hmm? I doubt that this perfect offer is something you should turn down. If its a boring case, it'll be easy, and then we can spend the rest of the time and some of that twenty million doing whatever else you would want to do in America.”

Sherlock took in John's words for a moment, finding the logic, before reaching for his phone and dialing the number which had called him.

“Yes?” Stark answered, a hint of glee in his voice.

“I'll pick up the case, Mr. Stark.” Sherlock said blandly.

“That's great, call me Tony by the way,” Stark replied, “I'll have a plane ready for you tomorrow at 6 in the morning, be there.”


	2. Chapter 2

The next morning, Sherlock and John were well on their way over the Atlantic in a private plane. John had passed out in one of the plush seats and Sherlock sat on the other side in his own comfy chair, knees pulled up to his chin, gazing out the window through the cloudless sky to the vast ocean below below.

His mind ran through the file he'd been given when he entered the plane. It was heavy and emblazoned with a S.H.I.E.L.D. logo--Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Division. Sherlock had heard of it before, never quite believing the rumors of some of its agents having powers that ranged from superhuman strength to wielding lightning to turning into a giant green monster, but as Sherlock had read through each member of S.H.I.E.L.D. 's Avenger Initiative, the powers and abilities held by each member made logical sense. Except for maybe Thor; Sherlock still was skeptical of a Norse God from outer space being real.

Of all the agents, two in particular stood out to him: his employer, Tony Stark, and the unfortunate Dr. Bruce Banner. Both had IQ's off the charts and had made advancements in technology and medicine few could even dream of. Sherlock was almost eager to meet them, but buried this excitement underneath his heavy sociopathic professionalism. This was only a case, and once it was over Sherlock would have no more reason to associate with either genius. At least he would still have John, he thought, looking over at the sleeping figure. His colleague was all he really needed, someone to be there to back him up, keep him grounded. Don't let anybody ever think that Sherlock's mind was lonely, that rather than a colleague he needed a peer, someone who could keep up with his racing mind, a genius like him. No, nobody would ever need to assume that.

A couple of hours later, the jet touched down at a secluded landing strip, and Sherlock and John were ushered into a helicopter nearby. From there, the helicopter took them and their luggage into New York where it finally landed on a tall building that towered above the other skyscrapers. As they came around to its face, Sherlock caught a glance of the large STARK logo and didn't miss the cylindrical contraption set up on its highest point. When they touched down and the engines were shut off, they were enthusiastically greeted by their host.

“Mr. Holmes!” An attractive middle-aged man, dressed in a sharp Armani suit and sporting a pair of RayBans, met Sherlock as he stepped out of the copter, his hand outstretched for a shake. Sherlock met him with his own white and delicate hand that contrasted with Tony Stark's olive skin.

“Mr. Stark,” Sherlock replied, firmly squeezing the man's hand, and secretly checking his pulse rate before letting go. He was nervous...interesting. The man wore his facial hair in an edgy fashion, all angles, and his wardrobe only further emphasized Sherlock's deduction that although his man was brilliant, he was far too proud and spoiled for his own good.

“Please, call me Tony, and this is...?” Tony said, glancing around Sherlock to catch sight of John who stood a couple of paces back, out of the way, in military form. “This is my colleague, John Watson,” Sherlock introduced him as John stepped forward and shook hands with Tony, followed by a curt nod. Tony gave him a quick grin before turning away and walking towards the double doors leading into the building.

“Well come on, let me show you where you'll be staying,” he barked over his shoulder. Sherlock gave John a quick glance, who shrugged back, before following the eccentric man across the helipad. The pair followed the billionaire through his penthouse lounge before following him into a shiny gold elevator.

“JARVIS, please take us to floor 48 please,” Tony said to seemingly nothing before an automatic voice replied, “Of course, sir. And may I remind you there is a call waiting from Director Fury on line 12.” John jumped almost a foot, looking for the bodiless voice, while Sherlock only raised an eyebrow in Tony's direction, earning a sly smile.

“That's JARVIS, my AI. Just ask for anything and he'll be happy to help.”

“Ready to aid you in any endeavors, Mr. Holmes and Mr. Watson,” the AI added.

“Thank you, JARVIS,” Sherlock replied smoothly, just as the doors opened.

“This is your floor,” Tony motioned as Sherlock and John took a step forward, but Tony's outstretched arm stopped Sherlock's exit. “This is John's floor,” he said with a smile, stepping back inside the elevator. John glanced from Sherlock to Tony before ushering them back.

“Go ahead,” he said, “Give me a chance to enjoy some peace and quiet for once.” John chuckled and Sherlock only rolled his eyes as the doors began to close.

“Floor 49, JARVIS.”

Sherlock glanced at Tony before inspecting, in close detail, the architecture of the lift they were in. “Separate floors, I'd think you were trying to split us up,” Sherlock said cooly after a few moments of silence. Tony caught his gaze with a look of bewilderment before quickly replacing it with a devious smirk.

“Nah, I just assumed from our phone conversation that you worked better alone.”

Sherlock couldn't argue with him there, it was true that while sometimes John was an aid, when it came to the actual solving of the puzzle, Sherlock did better by himself. But he didn't dignify Stark's assumption with an answer as the doors opened at his floor.

This time, Tony stepped out of the lift with him, guiding him through the rooms of his floor: the bathroom, with a shower the size of Sherlock's bedroom at home, the bedroom with a king-sized bed, and the bar in the corner of the lounge that was probably the size of the entire 221B Baker Street flat. Tony was about to show him the kitchen, when a voice that wasn't JARVIS's echoed through the speakers.

“Stark! Your assistance with the Avengers is required immediately, stop wasting your time drinking and get your sorry ass into this fight!”

“Yeah, yeah, all right Fury, be there soon,” Tony replied, gesturing with his hand although the voice on the other end couldn't see it.

“Now, Stark, this is a code 324!”

Tony's face blanched a little bit with the added information as JARVIS ended the call with the man who Sherlock could only assume was Fury, Director of S.H.I.E.L.D.

“Gotta go,” Tony said quickly and bounded towards the elevator. Sherlock, not one to miss the action, followed the man into the elevator, earning him a questioning gaze but nothing more. The lift took them back to the penthouse, and Sherlock watched in awe as Stark was suited up with the famed red-and-gold Iron Man suit by the cylindrical machine Sherlock had caught sight of earlier.

“Mr. Holmes,” Stark said, turning around, his voice now shriller as it came out of the robotic speakers.

“Sherlock,” Sherlock insisted quickly.

“Sherlock, please don't wander too far while I'm gone. I want to get to work with you as soon as I return. And if you wanna see me in action, JARVIS can find you the channel with live feed.” And with that Tony rolled back on his heels before the repulsor blasters in his boots sent him flying off into the horizon.

Sherlock watched him go with what could almost been mistaken as a form of jealousy before turning to the large screen pressed into the farthest wall and asking JARVIS to bring up the feed.

* * *

Tony quickly dodged a spray of bullets before throwing the grenade that had landed next to him into the air, as Thor used Mjolnir to send it into the sky where it exploded into one of the enemy planes. The Avengers had been fighting for the past three hours against an impenetrable force of replica soldiers that were being made at an impossible speed by a large machine at the end of the block. It was like Star Wars Clone Wars, but worse. They had been wearing through the forces and were almost upon the Machine to destroy it, and Tony wondered if Sherlock would still be awake by the time he returned home.

Sherlock, he was a very interesting, not to mention attractive, man. Tony had eaten up those cheekbones the moment he saw them, along with the ice-blue eyes. The man's height along with his cold exterior seemed to bring to mind that if Steve and Loki had an offspring, he would be it. Not only was he attractive, but he was brilliant. Tony had seen the intelligence running through those blue eyes, and it had given him shivers. The man was quite reserved, and Tony wondered for a second whether or not he batted for the other team.

No, Tony, he thought to himself. He's here to help you with Steve. The focus is Steve, which brought to his mind John, the little man who had accompanied Sherlock across the Atlantic. He was so similar to Steve that Tony was positive he had served in the military; the way he held himself, the serious melancholy of his demeanor, not to mention the shrapnel in his shoulder that JARVIS had detected through scans taken, unbeknownst to his guest.

Tony was startled out of his pondering by a bazooka grenade that whizzed past his head, exploding into the building behind him. But luckily, to make up for that, the group had reached the Machine. “Thor,” Tony said into the com, and Thor nodded as he began to charge Mjolnir with static electricity.

“Hawkeye, when Iron Man blasts through, follow it up with one of your whammers,” Natasha directed. Clint nodded just as Thor redirected the lighting in his grasp towards Tony. Tony's armor took the extra power and put everything into his repulsors, blasting through the hard armor of the Machine.

“Now,” Tony yelled, and Clint sent one precise arrow into the heart of the Machine. Tony felt himself along with the others lifted up and away by the Hulk's powerful arms as the world went blindingly white with the explosion of the Machine.

Hulk set them down, and the rest of the night was a blur as the Avengers dispersed, reported to Fury, and returned home. Tony was sore down to his bones, as he landed and walked slowly through his Iron Man disassembling, but somehow was not surprised to find Sherlock still awake on his couch with one of his tablets, a glass of wine in hand, and multiple images floating in front of his face, including the live feed from the earlier battle.

Sherlock ignored Tony as he walked to the bar and poured himself a glass of scotch, before joining the detective on the couch. He watched Sherlock's eyes darting from screen to screen before he suddenly shut it off, and the light white glow of the screens on Sherlock's face was replaced with the yellow of the mood lighting in the lounge.

“You know, you really don't know how to fight,” Sherlock said suddenly, turning his face towards Tony, eyes sharp and gaze pointed. Tony sputtered for a few minutes before replying, “And you would know this how?” Sherlock's words echoed a similar sentiment shared by Captain America.

“One doesn't need physical experience to see that your movements, while enhanced by the suit, are still clumsy and untrained. Your greatest assets really are your repulsors. If those went out, I doubt even with increased strength you could hold your own.”

Tony gaped at him for a moment before his walls came up and he shut down. He heard this from Cap all day long, and he didn't need to hear from a prissy ass detective whose job was to find the aforementioned annoyance.

“I didn't hire you to analyze my fighting style,” Tony hissed, “So how about you do what I'm actually paying you for.”

Sherlock rolled his silver eyes at Tony before turning the tablet back on. “I am. So far I've narrowed it down to three leads, would you like to hear them?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Next installment, beta-ed by the awesome PollyQ! Also there's some artwork I made to go along with this chapter http://rickardshater.deviantart.com/#/d52eh87
> 
> BUT PLEASE! I know ya'll can draw better than me so feel free to make some of your own :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bit of exposition. The next chapter will be more exciting, hope you guys like this one though!  
> Yet again beta-ed by Polly Q, thank you so much!

It had only been three hours, how the hell had he narrowed it down to that in three hours?

“Show me,” he grumbled, leaning back and distancing himself from the detective. He thought he might have seen another eye roll before Sherlock brought up three separate screens, moving them gracefully into position with his long fingers, handing the tablet to Tony.

Tony snatched it from him--oh that was definitely an eye roll--and in front of him were photographs of two unfamiliar women and another woman who looked somewhat familiar, but Tony couldn't quite place her.

“The first one there, is Jennifer Bar, a serial killer on the run.” The woman was run down looking, the photograph was an outdated mugshot, and she was an obvious crack addict, if not something worse. Sherlock continued, “Her M.O. includes the abduction of the wealthy by luring them into her hands through family ties. Her tactics seem most parallel with the kidnapping, but I doubt it's her. The second woman is Selma Shriv.” Tony stared at a fuzzy picture of a middle-eastern woman, but couldn't gather much else from the photo. “She is a terrorist known for the abduction of American celebrities and businessmen in return for black market weapons, where the marketers come out looking as heroes for finding the kidnappees. I'll admit she has potential, considering Mr. Rogers’s symbolism and status, but her current coordinates place her in Russia and she does most of her business work from Afghanistan.”

Finally Sherlock turned to the last photograph. The woman was stunning, long gorgeous black hair and sharp green eyes, perfectly rounded body. Tony couldn't help admire her for a second before seeing the look of distaste upon the detectives face.

“What can I say, I like 'em dangerous,” Tony said, throwing his best smug grin Sherlock's way, receiving only a sneer in return. “Anyway,” Sherlock continued, “This. This is Nikole Laufson, CEO of Sentiment Dating Co., a world-wide dating consulting firm.” Dating consultant? Maybe that's why Tony recognized her.

“And why would someone like her want to kidnap Steve? Other than making him their poster boy for finding 'Mr. Perfect'?” Tony asked. Sherlock didn't miss the note of bitterness that entered his voice.

“Well that's just it, she wouldn't, and yet.... She appears suddenly within the last month, no birth record to date, nor previous endeavors, and within a week or two successfully starts a worldwide business.” Tony vaguely debated hiring her for Stark Industries, unless of course she really was Steve's abductor, that would be...too bad. “Her connection to Steve was difficult, but not impossible. Within the past week, there have been a number of virus attacks on major computers around the U.S., in correlation with her appearance of course. The virus has been found in everything from government programs to national banks, and even, despite JARVIS’s superior intellect and control of technology, Stark Industries. My quick scan of the company's entire database showed the virus to be hidden with the firewall. To say the least, JARVIS was surprised. So of course, with the virus in your system, one could assume that you use the same technology for your own recreational purposes,and therefore-”

“Right, got it. Therefore they could see Steve's email,” Tony finished. He was now staring at Sherlock, leaning close before suddenly rapping his knuckles against the back of Sherlock's head.

Sherlock's eyes were piercing as he narrowed his gaze at Tony in question.

“Just making sure you weren't an android or computer of some sort,” Tony chuckled. “I've never seen anybody work out something before JARVIS did. Bravo. Ha! That almost deserves another million!”

Sherlock's eyes widened for a moment, before his cold, calculating mask returned and he sniffed, “Well, a creation only reflects its maker.”

Instead of getting offended, Tony only smiled, slapping Sherlock on the shoulder before rising from his seat and depositing his empty glass at the bar. “Yep, definitely giving you that extra million,” he said, as he walked away. Sherlock turned and his gaze followed Tony across the room. 

“Where are you going? Stark, we have work to do.” Sherlock began as he followed a couple feet behind him. “You have work to do here,” Tony replied, “and I have work to do with important Iron Man suit upgrades, things that you can’t help with. And he’s the one running the show here, isn’t he?” Sherlocked grimaced and opened his mouth to retort but Tony cut him off as he entered the elevator. “Sweet dreams.” Tony said, winking as the elevator doors shut on him.

How could someone be so impossibly infuriating? Like Sherlock couldn’t hack Stark’s suit within moments. Sherlock spun around tempted to throw something, but settled on dumping out the rest of the expensive wine in his glass, and the rest of the bottle, into the sink, waiting another minute or so before calling the elevator back up.

 

* * *

John woke up to an insistent rapping at his door, flipping over to see the bright red lights showing a '3' and two zeros. John could only give one guess as to who would be up this early. He scrubbed his face with his hand, and his suspicion was confirmed when he opened the bedroom door to a tired and frenzied Sherlock.

He didn't bother asking, just stepped to the side to let Sherlock in, who willingly did so, sitting down heavily in the room's big armchair. John joined him, sitting on the edge of his bed, watching as Sherlock run his hands over his face, shoulders tense, and fingers shaking.

“Sherlock. Sherlock, oi, what's wrong.”

Sherlock stilled, looking around as though he just realized where he was, before suddenly sinking back into the chair, hands leaving his face, looking like a rag-doll that had been thrown around.

“Nothing,” he said slowly. “Everything. Just...just the usual.” he finally said, tapping one finger against the side of his head. John sympathized; although Sherlock was a genius, that came with a burden, the never ending flood of information and the sleep deprivation.

As his best mate, John only did what he could do best, boiling up a quick pot of tea, feeding it to Sherlock who just screamed 'exhaustion', before forcing him to lie down in his bed. He shut the lights off manually, since he still hadn't gotten used to the AI, telling the robotic voice he’d rather do it himself, before joining Sherlock under the covers and staying awake until he heard Sherlock's breaths become deep and heavy, as he too drifted off into the void of sleep.

 

* * *

Sixty floors down, in his dimly-lit workshop, Tony Stark flipped off the video feed of John Watson's room just as the shorter man flipped off the lights. He turned back to slamming hammer to metal as he tried to ignore the painful, burning feeling in his gut, that of course wasn't jealousy. He was Tony Stark, what did he have to be jealous of?


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time to get down to work boys! and we get to see bruce! yay for science bros :)  
> Beta-ed by Polly Q, thank you!!!

Sherlock woke a few hours later, glancing at the clock to find that it was only 5 am. He could feel John's warm presence across the bed from him and listened to the rhythmic in and out of breath from John's healthy lungs before pulling himself from the bed and padding out into the hallway. Deciding it was better not to give anyone ideas about his purely platonic friendship with John, he took the elevator down to the 30th floor where Tony said the kitchen--and more importantly--the coffee machine would be.

The doors opened straight into a kitchen that was all chrome and marble countertops. In the middle, at the small island countertop, sat a small man. Not much taller than John, he had salty brown hair that covered half his face. Glasses slipped down to the end of his slightly crooked nose as he held that morning's paper closer to his face. He was already dressed in high-waisted trousers and a deep purple button-up.

“Dr. Banner, I presume?” Sherlock said stepping into the kitchen. The man's head snapped up and a small monitor on his wrist gave a hiccup, but went quiet a second later. Setting the paper down, the man pulled off his glasses and turned to face Sherlock.

“I'm guessing you're the consulting detective that Tony hired?” he asked knowingly despite the timid smile he offered as he held out his hand.

“Yes, Sherlock Holmes. It's good to finally meet you,” Sherlock replied, shaking Banner's hand gracefully before pulling away and searching the cupboards for a mug. Interesting, Banner took him at full face value, questioning neither his name nor whether he was who he said he was.

“Third cupboard on your right. So how is the search going?” Banner asked as he returned to his seat and his newspaper.

“Well. There are three leads so far, and I can only assume Mr. Stark has the means to follow up on them today,” Sherlock replied, as he found a mug and poured himself a cup of coffee, which he drank black. He savored the taste, as John never found it fit to keep coffee in the house, trading it instead for a never-ending supply of tea.

Banner hummed in response, and what followed was a comfortable silence. Sherlock finished his first cup and then refilled it, striding over to the other side of the island across from Banner.

“Dr. Banner, would you mind if I used your tablet for a moment?” Sherlock asked.

“Sure, and call me Bruce,” Banner answered, before handing Sherlock the small tablet that sat at his elbow. Still interesting that Banner would furthermore let Sherlock use his tablet. Sherlock could only assume that if Bruce really was in danger, his mutated form would emerge to protect him.

He focused on Banner's wrist monitor for a moment before switching on the tablet. He was greeted by the opening Stark logo as the device started up, before it faded out to a picture of Banner and Agent Barton standing together, with a friendly brush of shoulders in front of the Statue of Liberty. Sherlock scanned idly through the apps before finding the internet and bringing up his blog.

He was still in the process of updating a post about the effects of gamma radiation when Stark himself stumbled into the kitchen, groping blindly until he reached the coffee machine. He wore only a deep red silk dressing gown and his black hair was a mess, standing on end, from obvious bedhead.

“Where's my mug,” he asked grumpily, his hand still searching the cupboard as his sharp gaze turned on Sherlock and Bruce. It landed on the mug in Sherlock's hand who was mid-sip when caught.

“That's my mug,” Tony growled.

“And I am your guest,” Sherlock replied tersely before returning his gaze to tablet, where he now had a tab pulled up on Nikole Laufson. Tony muttered foul words under his breath before snatching up another mug and pouring it full of coffee. He downed that in 5 seconds flat before filling it up again and doing the same as he done to the first. He repeated this once more, and Sherlock found it amusing to see Banner softly snickering to himself as he watched Tony's behavior.

Tony heard it and gave Bruce a sharp look. “I offer you my home, a lab, tons of technology and this is how you repay me?”

Bruce shook his head and smiled. “You'd be lonely without me.”

Tony only huffed in response and turned on his heel, another full cup of coffee in hand, and walked back towards the elevator.

“Stark,” Sherlock called. Tony stopped but didn't turn around. Sherlock rolled his eyes and continued, “Where are you going, do you not want to discuss what further action we should take on the Rogers case?”

Tony shrugged. “I've got stuff to do, if you figure something out, come find me.” 

Before Sherlock could respond, Tony had jogged to the elevator and was gone.  
Bruce's giggle had now turned into a series of muted snorts as Sherlock's annoyed gaze rounded on him.

“What's so funny?”

“Nothing,” Bruce laughed. “I've just never managed to see someone get under Tony's skin as much as you just did, not even Steve.” Bruce's face sobered at the mention of the latter and he stopped giggling, but his shoulders still shook a little with his continued amusement.

“And would you happen to know where he expects me to 'come find him'” Sherlock said angrily.

“In his lab, second sub-basement,” Bruce replied, pointing his thumb in the direction of the elevator. Sherlock nodded, closing his tabs on Bruce's tablet and handing it back to the man who was now focused yet again on the morning paper.

“Thank you for your help, Bruce,” Sherlock said as he stood to leave.

“You’re going to find him soon?” Bruce asked suddenly, his voice much quieter.

“As soon as possible,” Sherlock replied. Bruce only nodded and looked back at his newspaper, already lost in his own thought process as Sherlock took his leave.

* * *

Tony turned around to the ding of the elevator to find Sherlock stepping out into his lab. The detective held a tablet under his arm and his mug of coffee in the other, but his eyes were not on Tony as he took in the lab.

Tony took Sherlock's moment of distraction to admire his outfit. He had changed from the rumpled pants and sweater he'd been wearing this morning into a very Bruce-like outfit, with high-waisted pants and a deep maroon shirt. The first few buttons were unbuttoned to reveal a gorgeously muscled neck, and Tony swallowed as images of him biting at that neck crossed his mind.

Unfortunately Sherlock's fascination was not long-lived. He cleared his throat, and Tony's wandering gaze met cold eyes in return.

“So,” Tony said with his best shit-eating grin, “When is the date for your and Bruce's wedding?”

Sherlock's eyes narrowed, and Tony was sure he didn't miss the post about gamma radiation on Sherlock's blog that was pulled up on a screen behind him. Tony just shrugged with another grin, then turned around, swiping the blog screen and his email away and returned to the schematics for the Quinjet that he had been working on. He ushered his guest towards the stool to his left. Sherlock responded with a grimace but went ahead and sat down.

“Based on further research, I have confirmed my suspicion that Nikole Laufson has something to do with Captain Rogers’ disappearance. The best plan of action at the moment would be to have a meeting with her, posing as investors so I can get a firsthand view of her, which may lead us to more clues...” Sherlock ranted as Tony listened quietly, pulling up Nikole's image on his screen before blowing it up as a hologram between him and Sherlock.

Tony stared at her face, searching for something that would explain the familiarity he had with the woman, but was distracted when he looked past the hologram to Sherlock's face. He was drawn away from her red lips and emerald eyes to Sherlock's pale ones and silver irises. The man was so gorgeous, but Tony knew better than this. This was not something or somebody he could ever get involved with long term, let alone short term. He tore his gaze from Sherlock's excited face, back to the hologram where he zoomed out the photo to Nikole's full body profile, spinning it at just the right angle to get a good glimpse her of her fine, luscious-

“...and then we can cross-run the virus emails and her website...are you even listening to me?” Sherlock accused. Tony's head snapped up to see the excitement drained out of the detective’s face, instead replaced with something Tony might take for jealousy. Or possibly disgust, Tony never had been good at social cues.

“Right, gotcha. I'll have Pepper plan a meeting with Nikole Laufson for...?”

“As soon as possible.”

“Tonight, and from there I'll let you work your magic,” Tony finished with a wave of his hand, returning Ms. Laufson's hologram into cyberspace.

Sherlock stared at him for a moment or two, before Tony played a slick move of dropping a burner to the floor while at the same time dropping his coffee mug. Sherlock snapped out of his reverie as he stood and bent to pick up the burner, while Tony scurried to pick up the broken mug before Dummy could get in the way.  
Perfect, Tony thought as stared at Sherlock's bottom raised in the air. He looked away quickly as Sherlock stood back up, placing the burner on the countertop.

“Clumsy, clumsy me,” Tony joked, standing up as Dummy finally reached them and began to vacuum up the shattered cup. Sherlock stared curiously at Dummy before turning to him. “Did you make that?”

“Who? Dummy? Oh yeah, yeah. Just a bored 13-year-old's idea of a good time. Not good for anything...”

“Was that before or after you created JARVIS?”

“Before of course, but my trusty handyman didn't come much long after.”

“Thank you, sir,” JARVIS replied from the ceiling.

Sherlock's eyes flickered up, before settling back down on Tony's. Brown met a silver blue, and Tony shuffled around nervously underneath Sherlock's stern gaze, hoping he would leave before Tony said something stupid or mean, like he always did. Luckily somebody listened to him as Sherlock's gaze dropped, and he grabbed the mug and tablet he had taken as his for his stay. He brushed gracefully past Tony, making his way to the elevator, and Tony couldn't help but admire the view from behind. 

But he was suddenly hit with that familiar pang of guilt. What a sick man he was to be lusting after someone, when his friend, who had become his best friend truthfully, was missing. Why was he so caught up on Sherlock, when Steve’s rescue should president everything? How much more screwed up could Tony get?

Sherlock turned once more before entering the elevator and stared at Tony for a second. His conflicting thoughts must have been obvious to Sherlock who answered him in a quiet tone. 

“I will find him, Tony.”

Tony met his gaze for the briefest second before turning back towards his computer, his normality, his safety.

“I know.”

* * *

Sherlock was lying on the couch in his floor's lounge, hands steepled under his chin when John noisily walked in, followed by a woman at least a foot taller than him with long auburn hair and sharp blue eyes. He observed this with his peripheral vision, keeping his eyes focused on the city view outside the wall-length window.

“Sherlock, this is Miss Pepper Potts,” John said excitedly.

“CEO of Stark Industries, nice to meet you Mr. Holmes,” Ms. Potts said, stretching out a hand. Sherlock's eyes flickered towards it for a moment before turning his gaze back on John.

“Little young for you, isn't she John? Let alone the difference in height. Thought you were more of the short, brunette type?”

“More like the kick-your-ass type,” John muttered under his breath, giving Sherlock a disappointed look. “I'm sorry Pepper, he's in one of his 'thinking' moods.”

“Right,” Pepper replied tersely, her narrowed eyes not missing anything about Sherlock's arrogant attitude. She'd seen this before, many times, by many women and men who left Tony Stark's company. Disregarding his bluntness, she turned her full attention to him.

“Mr. Holmes,” she demanded with all the force that came with being one of the most successful and powerful women in business, with a hint of what she would call her 'Tony voice'. Sherlock’s head snapped up immediately as he fully took her in. She didn't miss the same sparks flying behind his eyes that she often saw in Tony's. She smirked.

“Now despite Dr. Watson's gracious help in finding you, I am here with a purpose.” Sherlock stared and nodded. “I wanted to know the details to the meeting I will be setting up with Ms. Laufson for you.”

“Ah, yes. Funny to see he followed up,” Sherlock replied, with a glance to see if he was in the right. Pepper's slight twitch on the corner of her mouth along with tightening around her eyes confirmed this. “Well, I was hoping we could pose as investors in her business. I've thought this over, and I've figured the best cover would be that of a gay couple interested in a large stock acquisition.” Sherlock saw John grimace in the corner of his eye, but he need not worry, he was not fated to serve as spouse.

“Furthermore, I want to test her reaction of seeing a fellow Avenger, to see if she even knows who he is, so I'm going to request Tony's presence with me. Wherever we are to eat, it should be posh and expensive, we want her to believe that we are wealthy investors.”

Pepper nodded as he finished, jotting a few notes down on a pad of paper she had pulled from her pocket. John on the other hand was staring at Sherlock with a confused look, but he wiped it away with a smile as Pepper turned to leave. Pepper stuffed the notepad away and began to exit, but was caught by Sherlock as he stood up.

“Thank you, Ms. Potts,” he said smoothly.

She only smiled in reply and was escorted out by John moments later. Once he ushered her out the door, John returned, mumbling under his breath until he stood face to face with Sherlock.

“What the bloody hell was that about?”

“What was what about?”

“I know you're damn well bloody rude, but to a lady you just met? And why am I not going with you tomorrow? What if you need back up?”

Sherlock sighed, falling back to his seat on the couch and returning to his resting position.

“Sherlock!”

“Be calm, John. Wouldn't you find yourself a bit conspicuous if you were in the restaurant watching?”

“Well, why don't I just take a date.”

“I doubt-”

“You've never regretted taking me before.”

Sherlock eyed John for a few seconds, before giving in. “Very well, but I must ask you don't interfere unless absolutely necessary.”

John nodded, then turned to leave before stopping. “Did you really have to be such a bugger to Pepper? What was all that about?”

Sherlock only responded by shutting his eyelids and returning his hands to their usual position. John rolled his eyes, wondering as he left if he had heard a note of envy in Sherlock's earlier outburst.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony and Sherlock are determined to find Steve's captor, but a couple of things get in the way. Warning for some, the story will be rated mature from now on.   
> thanks to PollyQ for her awesome help on this!

Tony stood in front of the floor-length mirror in his shop as he fumbled with the tie dangling around his neck. He had been enjoying his day, upgrading his suit and building up JARVIS' security, until Pepper had swooped in, all heels and business, ordering him into the suit she’d chosen for his “date” that night. She had hovered until he was dressed before leaving a stack of paper on his desk that was followed by a small smirk before she was gone again, leaving her typical but lovely scent of peaches behind. A scent, Tony smugly noted, that came from the perfume he's gotten her last Christmas. And who said Stark didn't take care of his employees, let alone friends.

A short cough from the doorway caught his attention, as he looked up to find Sherlock's thin frame leaning against his desk. His hair was slicked back and all Tony could see were cheekbones that went on for miles. Sherlock only cocked an eyebrow at Tony's struggle with his tie. He dropped his hands and grinned back. 

“I'm shit at this.”

“You mean at keeping time or tying a tie?,” Sherlock replied sarcastically before stepping towards Tony and taking over the task.

Tony glanced at the clock. Only half an hour, not too bad. “Both apparently,” he replied, staring up at Sherlock's face as the other man focused on the tie. This close, he could smell the light scent of cologne, one that smelled of mint or maybe pine; it fit Sherlock well. At his height, Tony stood with his eyes level at Sherlock's collarbone, and yet again his mind filled with images of what he could do to that neck. Stop that, Tony, he reminded himself.

Sherlock finished easily and glanced down into Tony's eyes with an almost knowing intensity that had Tony looking away before he pulled back and gestured towards the door.

“Shall we?”

Tony brushed off the heavy tension that had filled the air and pointed in the direction of his garage. “Yes, we shall,” he said, grinning.

Within moments, they were off in one of Tony's favorite Jaguars, the top down. Sherlock was impassive at first until he let himself glance around, while Tony watched with enjoyment as Sherlock's expression grew curious, watching the city of New York fly by.

The ride continued in comfortable silence until they reached the restaurant, a small, crowded building, and one of the best steakhouses in New York. As Tony put the car in park, he was startled by Sherlock's voice suddenly very close to his ear and had to contain himself as a shiver threatened to go down his spine when Sherlock's warm breath brushed his neck.

“Remember: we are a couple. Very much smitten with each other and excited for a new life together. Got it?” Sherlock breathed into his ear. Tony could only nod as his throat had gone dry at the hushed words and he sat, rooted in his seat, until Sherlock tugged roughly at his arm.

Once out of the car, Tony was joined by Sherlock who put an arm around Tony's waist and pulled him closer. Tony rolled with it, as his playboy self would, and rested his hand on Sherlock's waist as they entered the restaurant.

Sherlock dragged him to the back of the restaurant. He caught a glimpse of a tall redhead in the corner accompanied by a shorter man--Pepper and Watson. And he could only assume that Barton was comfortably set up in the building across the street, ready for trouble if it should occur.

From a distance, Tony could see only the long, silky, black hair of Ms. Laufson spilling over the back of the chair as she faced away from them. Sherlock removed his arm from around Tony and instead grabbed his hand. He leaned in and once again whispered into Tony's ear, “Laugh, as though I just said something possibly naughty.” Tony smiled and squeezed Sherlock's hand, before chuckling deeply and replying, “Of course, honey.”

Their suspect turned around at his words, and Tony was almost blown away by her sheer beauty. Her emerald eyes gave him an up and down before resting on Sherlock. Her pursed lips, covered in crimson gloss, thinned out into a smile as she rose from her chair to greet them. Sherlock's hand left his as he leaned forward and grabbed hers, bringing it to his lips. His eyes were focused on hers for the briefest of seconds.

“Ms. Laufson, I presume,” he said sweetly, after kissing her hand.

“Nikole, please, Mr. Brown”

Sherlock grinned gently at her before pulling back and wrapping an arm around Tony's shoulders. “And this is my husband-to-be, Anthony Stickler.”

Tony tripped over Sherlock's acting in his head, wondering how someone so cold could put on such a good act. And this woman, her familiarity, so glaringly obvious in person, gave him a chill and aggravated him. It was as if there were a wall between him and the knowledge of who she was.

Tony brought himself out of his thoughts and smiled, grabbing her hand and copying Sherlock's earlier gesture. “Pleasure, my dear,” he said before moving to the table. “Shall we?”

Nikole nodded and returned to her seat as Tony and Sherlock sat down on either side of her. Immediately, they were waited upon as Sherlock ordered a bottle of 1945 Chateau Latour, and Tony had to roll his eyes at Sherlock's blatant disregard for money. Not that Tony really cared, he could just take the cost out of Sherlock's pay.

“Now, my dear boys, it's a shame you two only have eyes for each other, you would have been such beauties to match up,” Nikole purred as she cupped Tony's face.

“I'm sure you would have found someone interesting, but I doubt they could measure up to my Anthony here,” Sherlock replied, as Tony leaned slightly into Nikole's hand before pulling away.

“Pity,” Nikole answered. “I've got quite a collection.”

Her eyes caught Tony's and gave him a wink as Sherlock welcomed the waiter who had returned with the wine.

“So Nikole, Anthony and I are here to talk business. But let me first say congratulations on your success,” Sherlock said once the wine arrived and the waiters had taken their order, pouring the woman a fair amount in her glass. Nikole smiled curtly, sipping from her glass once Sherlock moved on to Tony's glass.

“We were hoping to share in that success; my partner and I have great faith in your business prowess and feel that you would be a good bet,” Tony added.

“Well, I have been hoping to expand my business to include the Gay community, and I'm sure your help would be greatly appreciated,” Nikole replied, smile dazzling. How bad could this lady be, Tony thought to himself. She just proved herself good in Tony's book with that admission.

“What steps will you be taking toward that?” Sherlock asked, baring the briefest of glimpses at Tony. Tony only watched quietly as Sherlock and Nikole conversed, the words drifting over his head as he began to focus on Nikole's lips curling repeatedly around the rim of her wine glass. Her slim fingers wrapped elegantly around the stem, and her green eyes shone through the glass when she took a sip. The conversation, it seemed, faded into the background, and all Tony could focus on was this woman in front of him.

The talking suddenly ceased, and Nikole was gone, leaving in her wake a pressure against Tony's crotch.

“Tony,” a deep voice breathed. Tony snapped up to find Sherlock's face inches from his, his eyes lidded, and Tony realized suddenly that the pressure on his dick was Sherlock's socked foot, meticulously rubbing his length, bringing his full attention to Sherlock.

“In case you haven't noticed,” Sherlock hissed softly, “you are on a date with your fiancé, so if you could refrain from drooling over our suspect and act as though you are sexually interested in males, we may actually get something out of this cover.” Sherlock's face remained calm and relaxed although his tone was harsh, and his foot remained, pressing insistently against Tony.

Tony thoughts scrambled around in his brain, as he pressed forward in his seat, wanting more friction. When had he drooled over Laufson? He had been listening to stocks and investments when...when there was suddenly a void left in his memory. Tony looked at Sherlock again, a little lost, and Sherlock's expression softened momentarily before resuming his lust-filled gaze.

Tony saw Nikole returning out of the corner of his eye and glared at Sherlock as his foot remained where it was. “As much as I am for voyeurism, I don't think this is the best place to cop a feel--” Tony cut himself short when he felt Sherlock's foot grind against him one last time, leaving him a little breathless. Sherlock slipped his foot back into his shoe as Nikole approached the table.

“Ms. Laufson, I want to thank you for your time tonight. Anthony and I are very excited for this chance to work with you,” Sherlock said, standing up and grabbing Nikole's hand in his. Nikole's eyes glanced over to Tony, who looked like a hot mess, before returning to Sherlock and smiling.

“Pleasure doing business with you, Sean Brown. I can see you two are ready to celebrate the rest of the evening,” she replied, speaking just loud enough for Tony to hear her.

“Precisely,” Sherlock responded in an almost dirty tone. It shot a sudden urge of want through Tony, as he imagined bringing Sherlock back to the mansion, into his bed, and letting Sherlock have his way with him.

Sherlock held his hand out for Tony, and Tony complied, grabbing it, but not before giving Nikole a kiss on the cheek as they departed. “Pleasure,” he said, followed by a wink, trying to keep up his Stark persona if not his own self-image. Nikole only gave him flirty eyes before he was whisked away by Sherlock's strong arm around his waist.

Once they were outside, Sherlock held him until they reached the back of the building where the car was parked. He instantly disentangled himself from Tony, who felt the cool night's air replace Sherlock's warm arms. Any feelings that had been stirring in Tony's pants were killed by the chill.

They drove for ten minutes before Tony finally cared enough to ask, “So what was all of that?”

Sherlock didn't look at him as he replied, “That was me trying to recover from your inability to keep your prick in your trousers.”

“Hey--”

“I had read plenty of what I thought to be exaggerations, but obviously their mark wasn't too far off on your sexual deviations.”

And despite the diluted references, Tony knew enough to be offended.

“Don't talk like you know shit about me, Holmes.” he growled back, barely heard over the engine and the air whipping past as Tony shot down 42nd.

“Then please feel free to explain what happened tonight,” Sherlock shot back.

Tony grimaced. “I don't know.”

Sherlock didn't reply.

“I don't know. One moment I was there, stocks, money, and shit and then, and then there was you and your fucking foot. I mean if you were interested in a piece of this ass, you could've just said so...”

“I'm not interested in you, nor will I ever be,” Sherlock responded tersely as they reached Stark Tower pulled into the garage.

“Yeah, because you have your ass stuck up on your little soldier boy--,” Tony hissed but stopped as Sherlock's eyes turned to cold ice, stopping the words in his throat.

“I have no sexual relations with John either, now I will analyze tonight's events and have them ready by morning. By that time I should be back on plane and you can take it from there,” Sherlock replied coolly as he exited the car and strutted away. Tony sputtered, mouth hanging open for a few seconds before scrambling out of the car and chasing after Sherlock.

“Holmes!” he said, catching up to Sherlock's long strides. “Sherlock,” he said as he put himself in between Holmes and the elevator. Sherlock stopped, looking coldly at Tony.

“Look, look, I didn't mean to say that. That was...inappropriate of me,” Sherlock frowned, but Tony continued on, “But really, Avengers honor, I don't know what happened tonight. That woman, Nikole, whoever the hell she is, did something--I'm sure of it. I was there, it's my job to be there and alert, and I obviously failed, like I do everything. Like I will if you leave this case. I mean you don't have to talk to me anymore, I'll take myself out of the equation. I mean Steve's more important than my asshole self--”

“Stark.” Sherlock cut off his ramble. His face wasn't quite calm, but it wasn't as stiff as it was a minute ago.

“Stark--”

“Stark, ok I suppose I deserve that. No more first name basis--”

“Tony, I will find Mr. Rogers, but if I am to do so, I need your full and responsible attention. So please leave your personal interests out of this, and let's get this case solved.”

Tony relaxed as he realized Sherlock wasn't leaving and smiled up at the detective. “I can't help my interests when you're trying to shove your foot down my pants.”

“Circumstantial, I was only trying to snap you out of whatever stupor Laufson put you in and make a supplemental excuse for us to leave--”

“Not that I minded it,” Tony interrupted, stepping closer. Sherlock's eyes flickered between him and the elevator, an uncomfortable look crossing his face. “I need to get to my analysis, Tony.”

But before Sherlock could side-step him, Tony was there, pressing his lips quickly against Sherlock's, but withdrawing as he felt the taller man stiffen. Sherlock's eyes were wide in what Tony took for fear, before darting into the elevator and closing it quickly behind him. Tony didn't follow, instead throwing his tailored jacket off onto the ground and rolling up his sleeves as he headed towards his workshop. Grabbing a burner and a piece of the new alloy he had been working with, he set to work for the rest of the night.


	6. Chapter 6

Tony woke up late the next day, bleary eyed and a trail of drool trickling down his chin as he raised his head from the cool surface of his work table. The screen closest to his face blinked red with a load of incoming messages most of them being from Fury and Sherlock. Tony scrubbed his face with his grease-covered hands, wiping the spit from his cheek and leaving a trail of black in its wake.

“Jarvis, how long have I been out”  
“A total of 10 hours, 20 minutes, and 45 seconds, sir. None of the alerts have been urgent so I saw no need to raise you from your slumber.”  
“Could have at least woken me up and told me to get in a real bed,” Tony muttered as he rubbed at the knot in his neck, a result of his awkward position on the desk.  
“My apologies, sir. It will be my top priority next time you pass out.” 

Tony swore he almost heard a note of sarcasm in the AI’s voice and chuckled, agreeing as Sherlock had said, the creation reflects its creator. After stretching for a few more seconds Tony turned his attention to the still flashing screen, automatically discarding the messages from Fury insulting him in one way or another. This only left one message from Sherlock.

_Please meet me when most convenient._

The email had been sent only an hour ago, Tony checked the clock to see that it was only noon; at least he hadn’t slept the whole day away. 

_Be there soon._

“Shut it down, Jarvis,” Tony said rising from his chair and heading towards the elevator. He caught a glance of himself in a blank screen and sighed at the black streaks across his face, arms, and formerly pristine shirt. He deviated towards the downstairs shower he built for times when he was barely running on anything other than coffee and couldn’t be bothered to run a bath or real shower for his self. 

The shower stall was small and metal as Tony turned the water on and let it run cold while he peeled off his dirty and ruined clothes. Not like he would be needing them for another date, he noted with a twinge of something heavy in his stomach. Once in the shower he bent his head back and let the cold water sluice across his face and through his hair, letting out a shaky breath. Like hell he’d even have an interest in the remote future. There was nobody around vain enough to pick up the broken pieces of a genius that let his best friend be kidnapped. Not even a detective whose entire appearance screamed vain. 

How he was even supposed to talk to the removed man after last nights failure of a mission, let alone the rejected kiss that still burned on Tony’s lips. He should have known better. Sherlock had made it clear that sexual interests of any kind didn’t exist in that marvelous mind of his. And Tony had done the worst, forcing him into something he didn’t want, repulsed even. No different than the Ten Rings had done to him years ago. Tony cringed and marveled in the stupidity of his actions, trying to pull up excuses he could give the detective to reduce any if at all time they would need to spend together until they found Steve. If they found Steve.

“Sir. Sir, someone requests entrance into the lab,” Jarvis voice suddenly blared from overhead. Tony blinked his eyes open wondering how long he had been berating himself before Jarvis interrupted his thoughts.

“Sir, Mr. Holmes asks that you please let him in, last night is not an issue with him and he has important information on the case to share.”

“Fine, fine. Let him in,” Tony grumbled as he exited the shower and slung a towel around his waist. He exited the small compartment and found Sherlock standing over Dummy, tablet underarm, as he leaned in and tilted back and watched as Dummy followed the man’s movements.

“Don’t play with him too much, he might get attached,” Tony spoke; not quite startling Sherlock, but the quickness in his turn implied that he hadn’t been expecting Tony so soon. The tall man’s eyes took a quick glance over Tony’s half naked body before landing on his face. Tony gave a small smirk, not taking it for much. He turned towards one of his drawers and pulled out a pair of deep blue sweats, sliding them on quickly and letting the towel fall.

“Sorry about being so late to rise,” Tony chucked as he browsed for a shirt, settling on one of his typical black tank tops. “Kind of woke up as a grease monkey, and despite my lack of self-control, I felt like I needed some semblance of cleanliness,” He continued gesturing at his wet hair and turning to face Sherlock.

Sherlock’s eyes then settled on the glowing blue emitting from the middle of his chest and then back to Tony’s face, his eyes not quite soft, but not holding their usual steely, cold gaze. He nodded slightly as if acknowledging Tony’s attempted remark against last night’s error, before striding over to stand next to Tony and opening up a computer screen between them. 

Tony watched silently as Sherlock expertly navigated the screen, not at all surprised that the man had picked up his advanced technology in a matter of days. His eyes roamed the younger man’s face, trying to imprint those cheekbones into his memory, down the long column of his neck before finding a fascination with the collarbones that jutted out from opening in Sherlock’s dark grey chemise.

“So based off of last night observations I am absolutely sure that Laufson is involved with the kidnap of Steve Rogers.” Sherlock’s deep baritone and first words uttered since last night startled Tony out of his reverie and he glanced up to the screen where hidden footage from the restaurant played. Sherlock sped it forward as yesterday’s Tony and Sherlock strutted into the frame. Man, did they look amazing on each other’s arms. They took their seats and the wine was brought before Sherlock paused the video and zoomed in on Nikole’s face where she held a glass of wine to her ruby red lips.

“Here,” Sherlock rumbled, his voice almost gritty with what Tony recognized to be a lack of sleep, his glance flickering to the bags under the detectives eyes confirming before returning his gaze to the screen. “Firstly, watching for her reaction yesterday I can tell you that this Nikole Laufson did indeed recognize you yesterday. And not just as a popular face, there was something personal in her gaze after seeing you. Secondly the fact that she had not a single guard or protection there. Wouldn’t someone of her sudden stature have somebody to at least watch her back while meeting with unknown clients? And if you look closely,” Sherlock continued, “The way she sips from the glass is from no habitation or culture found in the world. This is the most suspicious trait I picked up on last night.”

“So what your saying is that this woman knows who I am, and is definitely exotic.” Tony replied sarcastically.  
“What I’m telling you,” Sherlock replied sharply, “Is that this woman is powerful, with a power that is not known to us or our world.”  
“Okay…” Tony drew out. After this past year he was so done with aliens and the news of Nikole possibly being one did not sit well. “So how do we know that she has anything to do with Steve?”  
Sherlock resumed the video as he replied.

“Through our conversation last night, I brought up small details of the event of Roger’s capture. With each detail I mentioned I noticed a tightening in her left hand around the wine glass and the edges of her eyes. I can assure you she has something to do with it, if not maybe being directly involved.”

Tony nodded slowly, but his attention focused in on his own face as he watched his normally attentive stare go glassy. He reached up and paused the video, looking over to the screen zoomed in on Nikole and almost recoiling at the intensity of her gaze that was focused on Tony in the video.

“I noticed that also,” Sherlock spoke softly, looking through the screen at Tony. “I wanted to apologize for my bold actions last night in regaining your attention. It was fool of me enough to have missed her focus on you, but for any embarrassment I caused I am sorry.”  
Tony only chuckled, looking away from Sherlock and the screen and scratching the back of his neck. 

“No problem, buddy. It did what it was supposed to do, who knows how long I might have been out of it if you hadn’t. And as you apparently know, Tony stark is never one to pass up on a good time.”

The corner of Sherlock’s mouth pulled downwards slightly as he brushed the screen between them back into cyberspace and took a step closer to Tony.

“Stark,”

“Tony.”

“Tony, last night was confusing and profound at best. I think it would be best for both of us to, as you Americans say, forgive and forget. As I said earlier I am sorry for the quick conclusions I came to.”

Tony turned back to face Sherlock, resting himself against the edge of his desk, hands beneath him in an attempt not to reach out and just touch the foreboding man who stood so close to him.

“Forgive, yeah. Not that I necessarily want to forget,” Tony mumbled, knowing full well that Sherlock could still hear him and he began to mentally shake himself. What the fuck was wrong with him, obviously all it took to take Tony Stark apart was a personality and a pair of pretty eyes.

Instead of backing away though, Sherlock narrowed his eyes and took another step closer, stepping into Tony’s personal space, the look on his face calculating. Tony tilted his head up, staring into Sherlock’s crystal eyes, daring him to do something, whether that be to kiss him or hit him, he didn’t care.

What he did do surprised Tony as the taller man’s hand brushed against his temple, pulling away with some grease that Tony must have missed in the shower. Tony smirked at Sherlock and just leaned farther back on his hands, inviting. This time Sherlock did as expected and leaned forward stilling barely a centimeter away from Tony’s face, his hot breath ghosting over Tony’s cheek.

“Well?” Tony asked, pushing it, but suddenly he was much more sure of himself than he was moments ago. Sherlock may be a pro at reading people, but Tony wasn’t half bad himself when it came to matters like this. Sherlock responded by crashing forward into Tony’s mouth, pressing forcefully against the genius’ open lips. The initial force quickly puttered away as they shared a soft but languid kiss. Light breathes escaping their mouths and their lips gliding easily against each other. Tony took the moment to bite gently at the other’s lip, but it proved to be the wrong move as Sherlock suddenly withdrew. His eyes snapping open with a look of confusion not belonging at all on the detective’s face, before grabbing the tablet at Tony’s side and almost jogging from the room. 

He was gone up into the elevator in seconds, leaving Tony still leaning against his desk; hands still behind him and a small smile fluttering across his features.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well after a year of hiatus Tony and Sherlock return! I wanted to thank those of y'all who are still devoted to my story and asked me to continue. I'm still amazed that people even find interest in my writing.
> 
> If I am to continue though, I REALLY NEED A BETA. I am publishing this chapter without this having been beta-ed and I'm cringing. Please let me know of any writing or grammar problems!
> 
> But lets see what our two geniuses can come up with now that things are complicated ;)


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